Disappointing Discoveries
by ElizabethAnnFanfic
Summary: Post-ep fic for Amor Fati 7x04. UST, Angst. Scully, Mulder, LGM. Scully is undergoing IVF treatments when she discovers something unsettling about her partner.
1. Chapter 1

Timeline: 7x04 Amor Fati

Category: Post-episode fiction

Author's Note:

In season eight we were informed via flashbacks that Scully had tried IVF seemingly without success. She had asked Mulder to be the donor and he had accepted. The timing of these flashbacks was made unclear…just as so many annoying details were left unclear in the final two seasons, but I digress. In my little world, I would place these events somewhere between "Amor Fati" and "Millennium". Of course, only "Hungry" fell between these two episodes, and while this fic gives no reference to "Hungry," I'm assuming that the IVF treatments were ongoing during that time period. I assume they had already failed by the time of "Millennium". I also assume that there was more time between "Amor Fati" and "Millennium" than is made evident by the airing schedule, since New Year's typically doesn't fall in November, when "Millennium" originally aired! So, presuming more time would allow for these events to occur in the meantime.

This fic also fits within my _Cursing Miracles_ universe, but it isn't necessary to have read _CM_ to understand this fic and vice-versa. It takes place a couple of months prior to the events described in part one

Chapter One

"What have you got there?" Mulder asked, looking up from his desk to see Scully pausing thoughtfully over something that had arrived in their daily office mail.

"It's a collection for Agent Milton's family."

Agent Milton had died in the line of duty a few weeks prior. It wasn't unusual to receive a notice like this after a fellow agent had died. Someone close, sometimes a partner, would organize a fund for the agent's kids' college costs or something similar.

Scully seemed overly focused on a letter that contained the kind of requests she should have been accustomed to at this point. She held onto the letter, staring at it, as if some deeper meaning would be revealed from its surface. She kept breathing deeply, as if she was regulating her breath to prevent herself from breaking down into tears—a very un-Scully occurrence.

"There's one for you too," she said walking slowly to his desk and handing him a duplicate letter.

* * *

She was only too aware how close she'd come to losing Mulder, and the letter asking for a donation to help this man's family brought that all back to her in a rush. Except, if Mulder had died, there would be no Fox Mulder Fund for her to set up and send out to fellow agents in the daily office mail. Mulder had already sacrificed his life to the cause, even if he was still here in front of her. He had no wife, no children, no life outside of these walls.

The same could be said of her. No husband, no kids, no life…but she was attempting to change that. She was making a desperate play for a shot at having a child. And Mulder was a part of that. He couldn't have been, if she'd lost him. Everything would be different. Contemplating that thought for the hundredth time since he'd returned she felt simultaneously elated that he was still with her and deeply saddened by the costs they had both been made to pay.

Yes, she could have lost Mulder. The notion made her weak in the knees and brought her close to tears. She had to keep breathing deeply. Every time she lost him, she worked feverishly on his behalf, focusing her energies. He was back now, but the fears hadn't completely dissipated.

"I didn't even know he had a wife…let alone children," she said, leaning against her table and finally glancing up from the letter.

A wife who waited for him at home. Pretty little blond children who played in the backyard and didn't understand the danger their daddy faced when he left them in the morning.

"Well…we didn't really know him all that well."

"I thought I did. I mean, from what I knew of him, he seemed like a loner. Kind of the consummate bachelor."

Mulder shrugged. "I'll make a donation."

* * *

He didn't know what else to say to her. Yes, she certainly seemed oddly fixated on this man's death.

Scully had generally been in a rather upbeat mood of late. There was the letdown after the first round of cell transfers in her IVF treatment, but she'd rallied well from that and generally been very positive. So, her sudden dark mood mystified him.

"It would be like if _you_ were secretly married," she said with a lopsided smile.

Mulder ducked his head and bit his lip. He wished she hadn't said that.

He could hear her walking around the table to her chair. If he let the moment pass, he'd really be caught lying to her—there would be no defense. He forced himself to speak.

"I have been." He swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"What?" she asked, putting the letter down on the table and adjusting her chair.

"Married. I have been," he said, his voice still wavering as he looked directly at her.

Scully grimaced and awkwardly laughed. "Excuse me?"

"I was, I mean. I was married. Not anymore."

"Are you joking?"

"No, I was married to Diana."

Scully's lips parted briefly before she straightened up in her chair and set her jaw.

"So, you're a widower. You didn't think to mention this?"

"No. We were divorced. I was divorced when we met…you and me."

"I see," she said, turning on her computer and looking away from him.

He watched her and wished over and over that she'd never said anything. Or that he'd had the good sense to tell her years ago.

The blue of the screen illuminated her face. "I suppose that explains some things," she said flatly.

* * *

Except it didn't. Why hadn't Mulder ever mentioned this to her? She thought he told her everything. She thought he trusted her with the most intimate of information, but he'd never told her that he'd been married to Diana Fowley. And what had he done to that woman to make her repeatedly stab him in the back? Working with his enemies to promote a cause that Mulder spent his life fighting? She was nearly the death of him. Of course, she'd saved him and sacrificed herself. It did explain _some_ things.

* * *

...

Tomorrow Scully was undergoing another round of cell transfers. Mulder had been with her for the previous attempt, but he wasn't sure where they currently stood; so, he hadn't said anything about the appointment. She'd been acting distant ever since he told her that he'd been married to Diana.

Part of him understood her reaction; the other part of him wanted to scream at her—you tell me _nothing_. He had the whole emotional scenario planned out in his head and memorized to perfection. He would finally tell her how miserable it made him that she kept so much to herself. That he knew nothing about her life before the X-Files. That she could have been married ten times over and he wouldn't have known it. That she made it impossible for him to share with her how he felt about her. But, you don't scream those sorts of things at a woman trying desperately to have a baby. Your baby.

They hadn't even talked about that all important detail. His sperm, half his zygote, but he was uncertain where he stood should a baby result. Daddy? Uncle Mulder? The tall guy mommy works with?

His cell phone rang and he sat up from his couch and reached for it. He was mentally chanting Scully's name, trying to force it to materialize on his caller ID.

No such luck.

He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hey, Frohike. What's hanging?"

"Glad I caught you, hombre. We're heading out for dinner and to chase the ladies. Wanna come?"

"You're kidding," Mulder said, rubbing his temples with his free hand.

"I'm sorry, are you suddenly taken?" Frohike asked.

"Single as ever, Melvin. The thought of you three out trolling the city just threw me for a second."

"I've still got my tango skills, señor."

"You're going to need them. Sorry, you're on your own tonight."

"Look, man, if you don't show, Byers is refusing to come."

"Smart guy."

"Just dinner. You haven't been around in weeks."

"I've been busy."

"With deliciosa Dr. Scully, I know. Not that I can blame you, but we've barely seen you since you woke up from your zombie-zone."

"Well, I'm not with Scully tonight." Mulder winced at the whine in his voice.

"Oh ho! Trouble in paradiso. A night with the boys is what you need."

"Where are you going?"

"Guajilo."

"The Spanish—got it."

"Just getting in el espíritu!"

"You've got to promise to cut that shit out. I'm not in the mood, Frohike."

"Alright, ixnay on the anishspay."

Mulder pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it with frustration. Why couldn't it have been Scully on the caller ID? He sighed and pressed the phone back to his ear.

"Fine…I guess since it's in my neck of the woods, I'll make an appearance." He touched his hand to his stomach, stretching. "I'm starving anyway."

Author's Note:

This story should turn out to be 3-4 chapters when completed.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

I've gotten some questions about how this story fits in with the canon. I'll try to explain myself in less than 1000 words ;)

We have some indirect evidence that Mulder was married. Mulder is wearing a ring in "Travelers," which is a flashback episode set in 1990. The ring is displayed very obviously--DD keeps flashing it for us. DD was recently married and the ring was unscripted. However, many of Mulder's traits are thanks to unscripted DD contributions. Actors also give character's their own back-stories. I believe DD had said he thought Mulder was Jewish, which isn't necessarily played out in the series, but many fanfic writers believe this as well. Assuming Mulder was married in 1990, there is another flashback episode, "Usual Suspects" set in 1989 and "The Pilot" set in 1992, which help establish the length of the marriage: he is not wearing a ring in either of these episodes.

Evidence that it would have been Diana also relies on this timeline. We are told that Diana had been his girlfriend since he graduated from the Academy ca. 1986-88. She was with him when he discovered and was assigned to the X-files in 1990. Diana joined the FBI in 1991 and assisted him with some cases. We learn most of this in "The End". So, if Mulder was married in 1990, it seems logical that it must have been to Diana.

The issue of the IVF treatment is canon. We are told in season eight's "Per Manum" via flashbacks that Scully underwent this treatment at some point in the past and Mulder was the sperm donor. We're also told this was a failure. Of course, Scully is pregnant in season eight. CC wants us to fret over whether the baby is alien, super soldier, or merely human. We know he's human, right? What makes William special is that he was made the old fashion way. I think CC has finally confirmed this as of press time for IWTB.

This story fits within the CM universe, because everything pre-season eight in CM is perfectly kosher with canon. Musings over the IVF treatments are also going to show up in part two of CM in a future chapter, btw.

On with the show...

Chapter Two

Scully sat curled up in her chair with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly out the window of her apartment. She had given up willing the phone to ring. She would just sit here until sleep overcame her and then she could go to bed and meet the day's challenges on her own.

The past two days had been uncomfortable. She'd discovered just how little she knew about her partner. And he'd discovered how much his little revelation had the ability to upset her. She hadn't managed to act as disinterested as she now wished she had.

'Oh, you're married? How long? Do you keep her in one of those boxes in your apartment? Oh! Past tense. You _were_ married. Tell me all about the lucky lady. Diana! What a strange coincidence. What a shame it didn't work out.'

Something like that. Without the running sarcasm her subconscious inserted every time she imagined the scene in her mind.

Finding this information out felt like a punch in the stomach. Mulder was her partner and she'd shared more with him over the years than with anyone else in her life. She thought that he told her everything. She mistakenly thought that he would have shared a key bit of information like this with her years ago, when she'd first met Agent Fowley.

'By the way, I think you should know: Diana and I were married.'

Seemed easy enough.

Married. That was no small thing. She hadn't liked the thought of Diana being Mulder's 'chickadee,' but a wife was something else entirely. Scully had been taught that marriage was a sacred bond. Her parents had seemed to her like the perfect example of spousal happiness, exemplifying what marriage should be. She had dreamt of being married in a church in a white dress when she was a young girl. She hadn't always maintained her respect for holy unions, engaging in an illicit affair with a married man as a young woman, but she'd remained somewhat in awe of the state as a conceptualized ideal.

She had been his wife. Scully couldn't quite wrap her mind around that. She didn't want to. The way her pulse began to quicken in an unpleasant way every time she thought about it gave her pause. She was angry that Mulder had never told her the truth, but her anger was due to more than disappointment at his sin of omission. She was also burning inside that Mulder had been married at all. And to _her_. Diana Fowley of all people.

She had thought Mulder would have been the last person on earth to be married. He was so focused on work that he couldn't see the forest for the trees half the time. He slept on his couch ninety percent of the time. His refrigerator was perennially empty. Fish were his only companions. He was just the kind of man that desperately needed someone to take care of him, but was so distracted that he'd never get the chance to find the woman willing to do it. Flirtatious looks and unanswered phone calls were about as far as any woman had ever gotten with Mulder in years, as far as Scully was aware.

Not with Diana though. He'd apparently married her. He'd loved her and asked her to marry him. He'd been struck by her beauty and intelligence and whatever else attracted him to her and he'd wanted her to be by his side for the rest of his life. He'd bought her a ring.

Scully squeezed her eyes shut tight.

No one had ever felt that way about her. Maybe she made it impossible for herself.

Anything she did in this life, she had become used to doing on her own. Having a child was no different. Except, biologically you couldn't accomplish it own your own. You had to have a partner. And that she had. She'd asked Mulder to donate to the cause, so to speak, because he was her friend. He had been there for her. She'd been there for him. He was intelligent and caring. He wasn't a poor specimen of the species physically either. DNA was something of a crapshoot, but she thought her odds were better with Mulder than with most. And he was her friend—that meant the world to her. She didn't want some stranger that she'd picked out of a catalog to be the father of her child.

Except, this man she'd asked to father a child with her had been married before. Married to a woman she had crossed paths with in the most unpleasant of ways time and time again. And he'd never mentioned it. She'd asked him to do this important thing with her and there were secrets hanging between them. He'd been with her to the last appointment, and he'd stood next to her having secretly been married to Diana Fowley. He was more of a stranger than she'd thought.

Scully balled her fists. She was supposed to remain as free from stress as possible, in order to facilitate a successful cell transfer, but she was fixated on Mulder. She couldn't even fully understand her own reaction—like a spurned woman. She knew Mulder loved her. But she'd always imagined that he loved her in the only capacity he was capable of—an imperfect and self-centered love. When he thought she might leave him, he tightened his grip on her; otherwise, she came second to his quest like everyone and everything else. He loved her like this, and she'd imagined that she was the only beneficiary of that imperfect love. Maybe she was. Diana, on the other hand, had ranked higher at some point: he'd loved her and married her.

Scully stood up and walked to the window. Her discomfort was entirely irrational—a fact that bothered her immensely. She didn't seek Mulder's love. In fact, she'd installed careful professional boundaries so Mulder wouldn't cross any lines. He was allowed to be her partner and her friend. She didn't want to be Mulder's wife. She didn't want to be his lover. She never wanted him to slip and begin to say things that he couldn't take back. Things that would destroy what they had.

She cherished what they had. She was happy being his partner. She was happy being his friend. She was happy to have him at all.

She looked down at her feet. What she wanted was for him to be the father of her child. She couldn't imagine it being any other way.

* * *

...

"And how is Agent Scully?" Byers asked.

"Fine," Mulder responded tersely. 'I'm Dana Scully and I approved this message.'

"You two have been closer than a pair of Siamese twins lately," Frohike observed.

"We're not really going to talk about this, are we?" Mulder asked, tipping back his bottle of beer.

"Who else can you discuss your lady problems with?" Frohike asked.

Mulder squinted across the table. "Not you. And Scully isn't my lady. She's my partner."

"Potato, puhtahto," Frohike said dismissively.

"What did you do to piss her off this time, man?" Langley asked, crunching away on chips and salsa.

Mulder sighed heavily: these men needed lives of their own, so he could be left to mess up his without their interference. "Well…let's see. The topic came up and I mentioned that I'd been married before. And it just happened to be to Diana Fowley." Mulder punctuated his statement by knocking back the remainder of his beer.

Frohike whistled between his teeth. "I told you years ago to fess up on that count."

"I remember that. Thanks, Frohike. But, I didn't think it was a good idea at the time. Scully hated Diana right off the bat."

"Wonder why," Langley said quietly into his beer.

Mulder shot him a look.

"Is she alright?" Byers asked concernedly.

"I'm sure she's _fine_. And for how long have you been taking her side?" Mulder asked, pointing his empty bottle at Byers and Langley in turn. "I don't need to ask Romeo over here," he said indicating Frohike.

"You're awfully defensive for someone who has a pretty partner that is by your account hunky-dory," Frohike said with a smirk.

"Okay, maybe not _fine_. We had…plans for tomorrow, but I haven't spoken with her. I might not be her favorite person at the moment."

Scully hadn't given him permission to tell anyone about the IVF treatments, and even though she might be at home at this very moment sticking pins in a Mulder voodoo doll, he wasn't going to betray her to anyone—let alone these three lonely bachelors.

"You think she's upset?" Byers pressed.

Mulder paused, considering. "She shut down on me. That's what she does."

"Are you blaming Agent Scully?" Byers asked.

"I'm the psychologist, gentlemen."

"You might want to start putting that brain of yours to uses other than solving crimes, big fella. The lovely woman you're lucky enough to count as a friend and partner is upset, because of your lack of consideration. And you're here?" Frohike asked with a disbelieving shake of the head.

Mulder turned the empty bottle in his hand, examining the moistened label.

"Yeah, I'm sitting here with you." He set the bottle down. "Screw this." He stood up and pulled out his wallet. "Here," he said tossing some bills on the table. "That should cover all of you."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Angst, UST, Comfort. Mulder arrives at Scully's apartment in order to discuss his failure to mention his marriage to Diana.

Chapter Three

Mulder had been standing in Scully's hallway for ten minutes. He knew it had been ten minutes, because he had checked his watch roughly every thirty seconds since he pulled up at her apartment and talked himself into going inside. It wasn't terribly late, but she could have gone to bed early in preparation for the day ahead. Or he could have completely lost his nerve on the drive over. Either way it seemed like he could be out of his depth in knocking on her door.

His mind was made up for him as someone entered the hallway and walked past him. It was an older gentleman and his "good evening," was loud enough that Mulder felt as if his presence had already been announced to all neighboring apartments. Now he would just be the stalker standing in front of her door if he didn't knock, and Scully was armed.

He knocked and for good measure called out: "Scully, it's me."

The seconds that passed as he waited for her to answer seemed interminable. The door swung open and Scully stood, holding the door with one hand and clutching her robe closed at the neck with the other.

"Don't ask me if I'm drunk," he said defensively.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, clearly confused by his surprise visit.

"Can I come in?"

* * *

She opened the door wider and watched the floor as he walked past her right into her living room, where he deposited himself on her couch. Scully sighed as she shut the door.

"What's going on?" she asked from the doorway, where she stood still clutching her robe.

"I was in the neighborhood," he said, clearly lying.

She nodded. "Okay. Social visit?" she asked pursing her lips.

"I wanted to get some things straightened out," he explained.

She watched him nervously grip his knees and reflexively release them repeatedly. It almost made her feel sorry for him.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No."

She had no intention of making this easy on him. Whatever he came to say, he would have to say it on his own. She wasn't going to help him and she wasn't going to let it go.

Mulder took a deep breath. "Are we set for tomorrow?" he asked.

Scully cocked her head at him questioningly.

"You…you have an appointment and…" he trailed off as she continued to stare at him. "Should I go?" he asked quietly.

Scully softened as she watched the emotions flicker across his face, registering in his eyes and the set of his mouth. His rather handsome face. She finally walked forward and sat across from him. The act of sitting down was as much of an answer as she was going to give him for the moment.

"I could give you a thousand reasons why I didn't tell you," he said, finally leaning back into the sofa. He crossed his arms, maintaining his defense through physical posturing.

'Nice apology,' she thought to herself. She had no use for Mulder's excuses.

"Frohike told me I should tell you," he said with a frown.

Scully ran her hand over her eyes. At Mulder's words it occurred to her for the first time that while she'd been in the dark about Mulder's relationship, others were not. They'd known and they had been in on Mulder's subterfuge. It made her feel like even more of an idiot.

"Scully, it was no secret you hated her."

"Mulder, you asked me to trust her, when I didn't know one damn thing about her," she spit back. "Maybe if you'd mentioned that you'd been _married_ to her, I'd have been better informed."

Mulder sat silent across from her. She wasn't sure if she'd won the point or if he had been seized by some mysterious illness that had left him paralyzed. The latter might more reasonably have been the case, given Mulder's general inability to concede defeat.

"I thought it would upset you," he finally said.

"Congratulations, you were right." Scully couldn't help but feel embarrassed on that point. "I know how much you enjoy that."

Her visceral reaction to Mulder's marriage to Diana made the word—jealousy—dance through her head like a taunt. She despised her tendency to be jealous: it caused her to act irrationally and embarrass herself on more than one occasion.

* * *

"Scully," he pleaded.

"Mulder, I'm sorry, but I'd rather we didn't talk about this anymore."

Surprise of the century. Scully must have been incredibly frustrated with him to allow him to broach the topic at all. She would usually want to protect her feelings by locking them up inside herself. Generally, he let her keep it all in. It was admittedly easier for the both of them, when she did.

He couldn't keep silent on this, though. There were bigger issues at hand, and he couldn't let her be alone. Scully hadn't told anyone about her IVF treatments. Not even her mother. If she closed herself off to him, she would truly be alone. He couldn't bear that.

"I realize you don't want to talk about this. But, listen, I'd rather we didn't…didn't leave it on this note, when tomorrow you're…"

* * *

"Did you come here to apologize?" she demanded. She couldn't wait for this to play out. She was becoming too aggravated to put up with the usual song and dance.

"Of course I did. I just wanted you to know…know why. I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to upset you. I thought you might get the wrong idea. That you'd think she was more important to me than she was." He leaned forward as he spoke, propping his elbows on his knees and pressing his palms together.

Scully wondered if he knew that he looked like a supplicant.

"By the time she reappeared, I knew she'd never been as important to me as I'd once imagined."

"Mulder, I don't need you to put her down." 'Maybe a little.'

"I'm not. I just thought you'd think she was some _big deal_ in my life. On par with my sister or…or with you, Scully. And then she kept walking back into our lives and it became harder and harder to admit the truth to you."

Scully lingered over Mulder's 'our lives' in her mind. Normally being classed with his sister didn't sit well with Scully: she didn't want to be a replacement for his sister and she didn't want to be treated like someone who needed saving. But this was different. She sat trying to absorb whether or not Mulder had just assured her that she was a more important chapter in his life than Diana was.

"Scully," he said softly, drawing her attention back. "It was the wrong decision. I know that. I'm sorry."

Well, there it was. The heartfelt apology she had been looking for. She'd even gotten more than she'd bargained for. Mulder wasn't just sorry that he'd kept something from her; he'd confessed that she meant more to him that Diana ever did. If that was true, it was as she originally thought: Mulder loved her. Probably imperfectly, but it was more than he'd felt for Diana. Diana had gotten a ring and a wedding, but that wasn't what was truly important. That she needed this personal victory still made her feel like a school girl and not the professional that she attempted to embody. His words were a tonic to her unease, but not a miracle cure.

"Hey, talk to me," he pleaded.

Scully swallowed and let her hand slip from her robe for the first time. Clutching it to her chest wasn't actually protecting her from whatever feelings Mulder could evoke in her.

"It's okay, Mulder," she said quietly.

He nodded. She could tell he wanted more from her, but she wasn't going to make that mistake. If she started to let her feelings pour out in a rush of adrenaline, she'd say something irrational and ill-advised. Best to accept his apology and move on; pretend that Diana Fowley had never existed. The woman was buried, so maybe she could bury the knowledge that Mulder had been married to her as well. The feeling of having the rug pulled out from underneath her would just have to fade with time.

"I promise I don't have any other skeletons in my closet," he promised, miming crossing his heart with a crooked smile. "You know all my dark secrets…aliens, abductions, failed marriages."

She rolled her eyes dismissively.

"You could tell me something…settle up the score, so to speak. Revelation-wise," he said reaching forward to squeeze her knee.

She raised her brows, making her patented—you've got to be kidding—face. But then she considered: what could she share with Mulder? She shifted in her seat, letting her mask of irritation drop. The irony that she was walled off and yet she had furiously blown up over Mulder's secret was not lost on her; even if she still felt justified in her anger.

Mulder had just flayed himself open, revealing personal information. She feared giving too much of herself to anyone; Mulder feared rejection. It wasn't any easier for him to tell her these things than it was for her. She might as well open up just a little, so he didn't regret the things that had been said.

"I'd like it if you came with me tomorrow," she admitted.

Mulder's ironic smile broadened into something genuine. He stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her up.

"You haven't changed your mind about my contribution?"

"Your SAT scores were too good to pass on your DNA, all mysteries aside, Mulder."

* * *

He pulled her into an embrace and bent down to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo.

"There's something else," she said into his chest.

He stroked her back through the thickness of her terry robe. If she wanted him to let her go in order to continue their conversation, he had other plans. He wouldn't mind standing like this in her apartment for the rest of the evening. He'd missed this over the past two days. When he'd returned from having his brain sawed open, she'd been slightly more available to him. More open. And in typical fashion, he had strode into the gap she'd left and took full advantage of the leeway. All of that had ended abruptly after his untimely revelation.

"This is going to be it," she said so softly that Mulder was forced to bend down even further.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"The treatment tomorrow. They hoped they would be able to do three rounds, if necessary." Scully paused, clearing her throat and beginning again, this time speaking more forcibly. "There weren't enough viable eggs. The cell transfers tomorrow are the last ones. Two rounds are all I've got. It won't be long before I know whether this whole thing has been a failure." Her voice caught on the last word.

Mulder wrapped his arms around her tighter. He could almost feel the hope draining from her body.

"S'okay, Scully," he said.

He intended it as a promise. He didn't want Scully to suffer any more disappointments in this life, if he could help it.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Angst, Comfort, UST. Mulder and Scully await the results of the last round of IVF cell transfers.

Chapter Four

Mulder had to keep reminding himself that this was about her and not him. But that was the problem.

She was surely riding an emotional rollercoaster ever since the cell transfer. Scully liked to be in control, and she was most certainly not in control of what was going on in her body. She was just a poorly informed participant in a process that would ultimately decide her fate. Mother or not.

He was also a poorly informed participant. And as the rollercoaster began to rush into another trough for him, he couldn't help but feel less informed than his partner sitting across the room from him.

He watched her from his desk, taking care not to alert her to his gaze. He wished he could read what he needed to know in her countenance. He knew better than to count on her speaking the words he needed to hear. If he was going to learn anything, it would be in her expression…in the way she carried herself. And so far he was getting a blank wall.

If this treatment worked, it would mean the world to Scully. It was everything she wanted and hoped for and never thought she could have after her abduction left her barren.

If this treatment worked, it would mean a world of uncertainty for him. It was why he'd hesitated initially to say 'yes.' He couldn't say 'no' to her. He loved her. He loved her more than he had ever imagined he had the capacity. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to have everything she deserved and desired. And she wanted this baby. And to his great surprise, she wanted it with him.

_With_—that was the sticking point. He'd agreed to it and told her he didn't want it to ruin what they had. He couldn't give up their partnership or her friendship. She'd agreed. Of course she would. She didn't want him getting the wrong idea. She wanted him to stay in one place. Scully had locked and bolted the door to her heart. She didn't want him confusing being a donor with being something more to her than just a partner and a friend. At least, that is what he imagined as he sat across the room from her, stealing glances at her milky white skin in the fluorescent light of their office.

He had tried to be supportive. Moreover, he'd tried to stay mute. Because the only question he really had was: 'where am I going to fit in this scenario?' And he didn't have the nerve to ask.

If this worked, Scully was going to be pregnant. It would be real. She would have a baby, and he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to pretend it wasn't his. If he was supposed to continue pretending that he wasn't heartbreakingly in love with her.

He had to stay mute, because this was about her. Not about him. It was her rollercoaster. He'd seen how it was affecting her.

There was the elation she felt upon finding out that she still had options. There was the sweetly shy pleasure she'd shown when he had told her that he would help her. There was the hope that rushed through her and registered plainly on her delicate face in a most un-Scully like visible expression of emotion during the first cell transfers.

Then there were the dark sides. The disappointment after she received the news that the first cell transfer had been a failure. The disenchantment upon finding out that there weren't enough viable eggs to perform more than two cell transfers.

He could probably throw in his marriage to Diana as a low point over the past few weeks as well. It certainly hadn't been a happy revelation.

The second round of cell transfers left Scully less hopeful than the first had. Her initial disappointment paired with the knowledge that this was her last hope clearly weighed upon her. She would find out soon enough. He would find out soon enough too. And he still wouldn't know where he fit in.

* * *

...

She'd been taking her estrogen and progesterone medication, but that was all the control she'd been afforded. Everything was left to fate. And she'd had a sickening feeling when she'd awoken that morning. A feeling that things weren't going to go well today. That's when she'd decided to make Mulder stay back. She couldn't have him standing there if it was bad news. It would be too much.

She sat waiting in the same office where the procedures had taken place. There had been some comfort in the science behind those procedures. Scully was comfortable with science. She knew going in what the steps would be.

Fertilization was step one. Science stepping in where nature could not.

Step two was selection. Selection in the wild meant selecting a mate. Selection in the lab meant selecting the embryos most suited for transfer. She didn't have a mate.

Step three was the cell transfer. The procedure that Mulder so kindly attended with her, waiting just a room away and providing silent support. The moment when life could be given the chance to take root.

This was step four. The follow-up exam, where pregnancy would be determined. Whatever would be was already determined at this point. She was either pregnant or she wasn't. She hadn't been able to do anything about it one way or the other. She had been comfortable in the knowledge of the science. She was not comfortable leaving things up to fate.

She clasped her hands together, trying to steady herself as she stared at the wall ahead. Mulder had appeared to her as a supplicant the night before. She was now the supplicant.

* * *

He had been with her for her follow-up appointment the first time. This time when he had arrived at her apartment to pick her up for the appointment, she had acted distant and reserved.

"You okay?" he'd asked, as he watched her pick through her purse nervously.

She'd looked up at him and paused for a half-beat. "Mulder, can you wait here for me? Do you mind?"

He'd wanted to reach out to her, caress her arm, ease her distress. He was feeling nervous too, but he hated her discomfort more than his own.

"I just need to do this alone this time," she'd continued.

What could he do but agree?

So, he was left alone in her apartment. It was a rare opportunity. Scully's apartment made him feel things that his own apartment couldn't hope to duplicate. It gave him access to Dana, not just Agent Scully.

It was a world made up of her choices. Her sheets, her towels, her pots and pans, her china, her furniture, her paint colors. If he could read her apartment like a manuscript, he felt sure he'd know Dana better. Scully was his, but Dana was something of a mystery: her apartment was as close as he could get to a high level access pass to Dana.

It was a world where she went to shield herself from the FBI and the X-Files, from disagreements with her family, from him. In a world where she could never be safe—not even in her own apartment—this was her sanctuary. She'd made it that way by choice, despite the acts of violence and the violations of privacy that had occurred; she had made the decision to create for herself a sanctuary. His apartment was somewhere to sleep; Scully had a sanctuary. Being granted access to that sanctuary was not something just anyone could boast.

Hours alone in Scully's world. He had decided to make himself comfortable on her couch. He could soak in the Dana that surrounded him and give thanks that this woman was in his life.

He must have fallen asleep. Scully's world allowed him the rest that had escaped him the night before alone in his apartment. He awakened in the darkened apartment to the sound of the door opening and closing. He saw her enter as he sat up.

"Scully? I must have dozed off. I was waiting for you to get back."

He had been waiting to see something in her expression, so he would know where he stood. Her expression finally revealed something to him. He hadn't wanted to see the sad hollowness about her eyes.

"It didn't take, did it?" he asked.

She stood there, not saying anything for a moment. He stood up and took one step towards her. It felt like a infinite sea separated them. He tried to swallow. She needed him to say the right thing, but he wasn't sure what that was. He needed to bridge this vast divide.

"I guess it was too much to hope for," she said in defeat.

* * *

He opened his arms, and without thinking she walked into them and let him wrap his arms around her. She immediately was racked with sobs. She let herself sink deeper into his hold.

"It was my last chance," she said.

Saying it made it real. Painfully real. This is why she hadn't wanted Mulder to be with her. She couldn't manage to maintain her clinical detachment in his presence. The doctor had given her the bad news, and she had stiffly nodded and thanked him for his efforts. She'd walked to her car and even managed to choke back a rising sob as she was enveloped in the silence of the car. But here, with Mulder, she was falling apart. This was the man she'd chosen to have a child with. And it was a failure. She was a failure.

He held her more tightly, and she felt as if his arms were the only thing keeping her from collapsing in on herself. She took deep measured breaths, trying to stop the tears that continued to pour silently of their own accord. She felt his lips press a kiss to her forehead.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight. This is why she hadn't wanted him there. She was afraid that disappointment would cause more damage to their relationship than success ever could. She was afraid that her own disappointment would cause her to act irrationally. She would expose too much of herself and the retreat would be messy and painful.

He pressed his forehead against hers, establishing more intimacy in typical Mulder fashion. He meant it to be soothing, and it was. She wished for a moment that she was normal. That they were normal. Then there wouldn't have to be rules and boundaries and fear.

"Never give up on a miracle," he said in hushed tones.

Something broke inside of her. She had given up. There was no other thought but defeat. Not Mulder. SAT scores, physical appearance, and intelligence aside, this was why she had chosen Mulder. Why she would choose him a thousand times over, if she had been given the chance. Mulder didn't give up—not when it mattered.

She kissed his cheek, her heart thundering. As she pulled back from the kiss, she almost pressed her lips to his. As scrambled as she felt, she managed to redirect the kiss to his neck. She could feel his pulse beneath her kiss. His pulse felt rapid. She embraced him once again, glad to have somewhere to bury her face for the moment.

She felt Mulder raise his hand to stroke her hair. His touch was somewhat shaky.

"Scully…" he said quietly.

She didn't respond, not trusting her voice.

"Scully, I want to tell you something," he said.

She could hear the uncertainty in his voice. She was fairly certain that she didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Don't," she commanded into his chest.

He leaned back, still holding her in his embrace but trying to look her in the eye. She turned her head avoiding his gaze.

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "No, you know what? I need to tell you this. I need to tell you that I…"

Scully interrupted him by pulling herself away from his embrace. She began to walk across her apartment towards her bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to be alone," she called back over her shoulder as she reached the bedroom. She stepped through the doorway and pushed the door shut, shutting out Mulder's surprised face.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Mulder stood rooted to the floor. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Scully had literally and figuratively shut him out. He was on the verge of unburdening himself, and she had turned away. It was what he had always feared, but somehow he thought perhaps today would be different. He thought they were different.

He rubbed his eyes forcefully.

'Try not to make this about you, asshole.'

Scully was the one on the other side of that door alone. Alone with the knowledge that she would never have a child. She had to process that reality for the second time.

He walked slowly towards her door and called through it, "Hey Scully?"

"Mulder," she responded wearily from behind the door.

"I know you want to be alone, but I'm going to stay. I'll just be out here, in case you change your mind."

There was no response. He sighed and decided to make himself comfortable again on the couch. He stretched out, tucking his arm behind his head. He would wait.

He hated to admit it, but he wasn't mourning the results. Not the way Scully was. Yes, he felt saddened by the news. He hated to see her upset. He hated to see her cry. He had wanted this for her.

And in an ideal world, he had wanted this for himself. Except, this wasn't an ideal world and Scully's behavior this afternoon was exactly what he'd feared it would be: she was walling herself off from him. He wanted the whole package and he had never been clear on what Scully was offering. He had no guarantee that if things had turned out differently she wouldn't still eventually shut him out. It wouldn't just be unrequited love anymore: it would be worse. There would be a child involved.

She held such an emotional sway over him, however, that when she was in his arms and pressing kisses to his cheek and his neck, he was inspired to open up to her. He could only hope that they were finally in a place where he could be honest. Where she might listen. Clearly they weren't.

* * *

Scully leaned against the door with her eyes shut tight. She leaned against it in case Mulder decided to try and follow her. She leaned against it, because she knew he was only separated from her by a little more than an inch, as long as she remained pressed against the door. He was standing there on the other side. As much as she needed the distance so she wouldn't surrender to her own weaknesses, she wanted him close by.

After he announced that he was going to stay and she heard him walk away from her door, Scully slid slowly down to the floor, where she sat still leaning against the door. She stared at the bed that faced her. It seemed like a long distance to travel in order to lie down in the bed. She would just stay here on the floor for a while until she had the strength.

She wiped at her face, removing the evidence of her tears. Now that she was safely behind this door, she could gather her wits and begin to manage her feelings. She couldn't afford to break down like this. She had to be able to get up and go to work on Monday, and it was a job that didn't allow for emotional breakdowns. You had to be on top of your game or someone could get hurt. She would allow herself several hours to digest the news and then she would force herself to move on.

The pain felt like a dull ache spreading through her body. She had known it was a long shot, but she had allowed herself to hope. She had hoped that she would be a mother. She had hoped that there would be baby cribs and first steps and first words. She had hoped that there would be packed lunches and books and Band-Aids. She had let herself imagine what their child might look like…act like. Brown hair and hazel eyes, given her more recessive genetic characteristics? Nearsighted and short? Or nearsighted and tall? Clever and determined? Or sensitive and serious?

But there would be none of that. No first day of school. No recitals. No afternoon soccer games. She was going to have to be content with what she had, because it wasn't likely to change in any significant way. She was single. She lived in an apartment. She didn't have any pets. She had a mother and two brothers. She was an aunt. She worked at the FBI in the X-Files. Her partner was Fox Mulder. They were not having a child together. They were friends and that was all.

She couldn't listen to his confession. She was fairly certain what it would be. She couldn't hear it right now and have any chance of regaining her composure. But he was right outside, if she needed him. Knowing that was enough.

Scully lifted herself off the floor with a sigh. She walked to the chest of drawers and pulled open the middle drawer, taking out a pair of pajamas. She had to get out of these clothes. It felt as if they had been dyed in sorrow; she didn't think she'd ever wear them again.

* * *

Several hours passed and Mulder's stomach began to growl. He wondered if Scully might also be hungry. He didn't know what Scully had on hand, and he probably wouldn't know what to do with it, but he could always get something delivered. He stood up and stretched his stiff limbs. He checked his watch. It was later than he thought. The dinner hour was certainly at hand, and he'd missed lunch.

He hadn't heard anything from Scully's bedroom. He wasn't sure whether that was a good sign or not. He stood in front of her door. She could be asleep, and then he'd be waking her. He rapped softly on the door.

There was no answer.

"Scully?" he called softly.

Nothing.

"You want me to get us some dinner?"

He waited. He thought he heard stirring—maybe the springs of a mattress.

"I'm not hungry. Go ahead and go, Mulder."

He could barely hear her through the door. Her voice sounded weak.

"Well, if it's all the same to you, Scully, I'm going to stay. I'll order something, and you can have some if you like."

He ordered her favorite. He knew it was her favorite, even if she didn't usually indulge. Too many calories. Not that she needed to worry about such things: she was perfect in every way. But, he knew better than to tell her that.

The delivery boy arrived with Mulder's order and he carried the foam containers into the kitchen.

"Food's here, Scully," he called.

He began to pop the tops of the containers and he was satisfied to see that the contents were still warm. He had gotten two different pasta dishes. Scully didn't like white sauces—that was simply going too far into the danger zone as far as fat calories. He pulled open several drawers in quick succession until he found the utensils and he grabbed a couple of forks. He stuck his fork into the mess of warm noodles smothered in alfredo sauce and began to eat from the white foam container, leaning over the counter in case he dropped any.

He heard a faint rustling and glanced to his left. Scully stood in her silk pajamas, arms crossed and face blank.

"I do have plates, Mulder."

Of course she wouldn't like his bachelor habits. To his way of thinking plates were just something to wash. He glanced around at the cabinets: he didn't know where she kept the plates.

Scully stepped forward and opened a cabinet. Mulder watched as she rose up on the balls of her feet to reach for two plates. He wondered why she didn't just keep them where she could reach them more easily. Surely there wasn't anything to prove in the comfort of her own home.

"You got Italian," she said as she set the plates on the counter and took the container from Mulder.

"I thought I could tempt you into eating something."

She began to scoop a heap of noodles onto Mulder's plate, ignoring the other empty plate. "My mother used to make us grilled cheese sandwiches, when we'd had a bad day." She grimaced.

Yes, this counted as a bad day.

"There is a cannoli in there for you too," he said, gesturing towards the box.

"I'm not really hungry," she said, going to the kitchen table and sitting down. She pulled her feet up onto the wooden chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. It made her look even smaller than usual.

"Not even hungry enough for a cannoli?" he asked, picking the pastry item out of the box and carrying it to her. "So I don't have to eat alone?" he pleaded with a lopsided smile, holding it out to her between his fingers.

He looked into her eyes. They weren't rimmed in red: she must have dried her tears the moment she shut the door between them. Scully had an emotional fortitude he couldn't hope to match. If she hadn't been crying, he wasn't sure what she had been doing during the past few hours. Maybe she'd just sat staring at the wall for several hours. It was what he'd done, after all.

She took the cannoli from him with a sigh and began to examine it, maybe weighing its caloric content with a mixture of disdain and resignation.

He licked the powdered sugar from his thumb and forefinger before grabbing his plate and sitting down at the table with her. He began to eat once more, glancing up at her between each mouthful. She caught his gaze and set her jaw. He thought she looked like she might begin to tear up again. He snaked his hand across the table, trying to reach for her. She sat back further.

"I don't want to talk about it," she asserted narrowing her eyes.

He nodded withdrawing his hand slowly. Her rejection stung. He knew she'd seen him twitch at her quick movement away from him.

"Ever," she added more softly.

He swallowed. "Okay. Whatever you want." He set his fork down. He wasn't as hungry as he thought. "I didn't think you'd come out of there," he admitted.

"You weren't going to leave," she said glancing over the cannoli, which she finally took a bite of.

He watched her lick the excess ricotta cheese from her lower lip.

"You're like a dog with a bone, Mulder. You don't give up."

"You wouldn't mean that as a compliment?" he asked.

Scully considered for a moment, tilting her head to the side and raising one brow. "It can be frustrating." She paused, taking another bite of the cannoli. "But, I need that…I need your fierce determination sometimes. I needed it for _this_."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that," he said, stretching one leg out and leaning back in the chair.

He tried to assume an air of cool reserve, so as to compensate for the tone of his voice, which he realized too late was somewhat accusing. He was trying to reel in his pain, so he could be there for her, but it was difficult with her sitting in a ball across from him, clearly not wanting him.

"We're not," she affirmed.

She finished off the cannoli and stood up. She pushed in her chair and walked over to the oven, where she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Mulder watched her movements silently.

"You're not going to finish your dinner, Mulder?" she asked, coming to stand beside him.

He reached for her hand and held it tight, so she wouldn't pull away. She looked a little frightened by his gesture, as if she feared what he would say. He knew that if he said too much, she would retreat behind her door again. At this moment it was necessary that he edit himself: he couldn't push her too far.

"I needed to be here with you," he said firmly.

He needed it as much as he thought she might. She might not want to talk about it, but he needed to be near her. He didn't want her to mourn alone, the way she had in the past. He needed to be a bigger part of her life.

Mulder watched her shoulders sag the slightest bit—an almost imperceptible release of tension that anyone else would have missed, but he was schooled in all things Scully. She didn't communicate her feelings, so he had to read them.

"Oh, Mulder." Scully ran her free hand through Mulder's hair.

"You've been wishing me gone," he said, squeezing her hand. He acknowledged it, but he wasn't letting her go.

"Not really," she said with a shake of the head.

"I kept my shoes off your couch," he said, tugging her a little closer.

"They don't give out awards for that," she said contemplating him with a curious look.

"They should."

Scully leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "You didn't shave today," she said, cupping his cheek and running her thumb against the grain of his stubble.

Her warm breath against his face paired with her soft touch was distracting, but he managed to answer: "I was a little rushed."

She managed a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Are we alright?" he asked before she pulled away.

"Yes," she said with a slight nod.

In the split second before she straightened up, Mulder considered kissing her. But, he knew now wasn't the time. If he kissed her, he would be taking advantage of her emotional state. If he kissed her, he wouldn't know whether the reception was colored by the pain of the moment. If he kissed her, he'd be chancing that she would pull away, when she needed him—as a friend. They were alright, but they weren't there yet.

THE END

Author's Note:

Hope that was enough of an emotionally satisfying ending for everyone, considering the topic. According to my take on the timeline, "Millennium" would happen shortly after this. So, take comfort in kisses in the not so distant future. Thanks for reading!


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